The Many, Many Ways
by TheSilentEloquence
Summary: A few of the interactions set between Jim and Elisabeth Shannon- because married couples hardly get any fanfic attention. Cute and fluffy.
1. In for Dinner

**The Many, Many Ways He Says "I Love You"**

1 – In for Dinner

Walking out of the clinic doors that evening, Elisabeth glanced up at the sky, noting its many brilliant features before setting off for home. She knew she had stayed late- then again, the intelligent lights inside the clinic had kept her surroundings staggeringly illuminated as the hours had come and gone and the sun set- but the night was very dark to her at that time. Any remaining traces of the sinking sun were obscured by the tree line, out of her sight. Out in the colony, there were only a few people making their way, like her, through the darkness, and most, if not all (she couldn't quite tell from a distance), were members of the security team.

Of course she had a good reason for leaving as late as she did. The clinic had been exceptionally busy that day, and as a doctor she had been in very high demand. Right up until the very last there had been people crying out for her expert attention. When she did finally take leave of her duties, it was only after she had gone around a second time, checking to make sure everyone in her care was stable and properly attended to the rest of the night. She had, to her consolation, been able to send word home along with her eldest daughter, Maddy, who had come looking for her about an hour after her shift was supposed to end. At the time, she had only been able to say that she had been flooded with work and may not be home until later that night. Still, she had not expected it to be quite as dark as it was now.

Though the air was warm she was not particularly tired, or exhausted from being on her feet all day. Finally coming up on her own front door, thoughts of a quiet read seemed tantalizingly wonderful.

"Sorry I'm late," she said after opening the door and stepping into the house, not entirely sure there was anyone to hear what she had said. Continuing on her path without hearing any reply, a wall of scent smote her when she had reached the family room just a few steps from the door. Although she had forgotten that it had indeed been a long while since dinner, and she had not yet taken supper, she suddenly felt very hungry.

Eyes watching her approach, her husband Jim waited for her by the table where two places were set. His arms beckoned out as he greeted her, "Perfect timing I'd say," then smiled.

"Jim? What-," she started, approaching him only to be suddenly caught in a short embrace, then kissed on the temple before being released, "what is all this?" She was rather taken aback. "Where is everybody?" she continued when he offered no reply.

"Well," he began, ever so gently taking her shoulders in his hands to steer her over to her place at the table as he spoke, "Zoey's already asleep, Maddy's studying in her room, and uhh, Josh is at work."

"What still? This late in the evening?" Elisabeth questioned, turning to send Jim a concerned look.

He only nodded with his slight smile and redirected her shoulders back around again. "They're having a birthday party for one of the officers," he told her, "he's fine."

Allowing herself to be sat down, she looked out over the table as her husband took his seat opposite to her. "You did all this?" she questioned in awe-struck disbelief, noticing the meal in front of her was much more complicated than toasted bread with jam.

"Well, Maddy helped me tell the difference between the salt and the sugar," he said with a straight face, "but I did the rest."

"Oh Jim, that's so sweet," she cooed, reaching over to rest her hand on his, upon which gesture he adjusted his hand to run his thumb over her fingers as they sat, staring at each other with those warm smiles only mothers and fathers have.

"And I, am, famished," Elisabeth continued, releasing his hand to retrieve her fork and knife. Jim did the same, and together they sat and began eating.

A few moments later, Elisabeth paused, closing her eyes momentarily to savor the taste of her food. "Mm, so good," she said.

Jim merely smiled, appreciating the complement, then raised the glass in front of him, even though it only held water. "To us," he offered.

"To us," she replied, doing the same.

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**A/N: This is meant to be a continuing project of (relatively) unrelated one-shots set between Jim and Elisabeth Shannon. As it stands, I've got lots of ideas, some more concretely developed than others, and all (hopefully) enjoyable and coherent. Please: let me know if you like the first installment or if you'd be interested in seeing it continued, I really do appreciate your input. **


	2. Afterschool Program

2 – Afterschool Program

_Odd_, Elisabeth mused as she rounded a corner on her way home. She had just come from Zoe's school. Earlier that morning, it had been determined that the responsibility of picking up her youngest daughter had fallen to her as Maddy had been granted a temporary internship, Josh had to go directly to Boylan's after school, and Jim was otherwise engaged with his duties. However, any one of the dozen or so colonists she passed by on that clear day could immediately recognize that her daughter was not with her now, although none of them would see this fact having any significance, nor would they identify her stroll through the colony as one accompanied by a telling absence.

One of the attendants at the school told her that she had not seen Zoe all that day, and had simply supposed she had been kept at home. The thought troubled Elisabeth, for she distinctly remembered helping Zoe get ready for school that morning, and Maddy had been standing by to take her little sister when she had left for the clinic. If Zoe had not gone to school that morning, then where had she gone, and where was she now?

Passing the market on her route, a familiar head of brown hair caught her eye. She spun around and looked again to make sure she had really seen what she thought she had seen, then took off in pursuit.

She decided to only go a few strides before she called out: "Maddy!"

Hearing her name called, the elder Shannon daughter stopped to locate the source. Seeing her mother approach she greeted naturally, "Mom, hey!"

"Are you in the middle of something?" Elisabeth inquired, seeing the group of young people Maddy seemed to be following continue on without her.

"We're just," Maddy said, glancing over her shoulder, "coming back from cold storage; what's up?"

"You took Zoe to school this morning right?" she asked.

"Yeah why?" her daughter replied.

"The woman at the school said she hadn't seen her at all today," she said.

"Oh," Maddy voiced, immediately understanding the dilemma at hand. "Did she go back home?"

"That's what I hope to find out," she replied, readying herself to continue in that direction.

"Wait," Maddy called after her, "do you want me to do anything?"

"No, you go on, I'll handle this," she replied, bidding her farewell with a quick wave before turning to continue on her way home. This new information hadn't helped her very much, as she had suspected that Maddy had, indeed, escorted her little sister to school that morning. It only left to wonder what had happened between then and now. She tried not to allow her mind to wander to the more frightening options, but as she had to try harder and harder to put these thoughts aside, she walked faster and faster until she was upon the family's front door.

Inside the air was cool, and as she moved through the short entryway between the door and the main family room, she called Zoe's name softly, not wanting to appear overly worked-up.

Finally reaching the main room, the sight caused her to stop dead, and she let out a slight gasp of surprise.

"We're in here," Jim called back to her in a whisper softer than hers had been.

Jim sat on the couch, his arms outstretched and resting along its back, hardly stirring so as not to wake the sleeping Zoe who was resting her head in his lap. She had a blanket draped over her, and on the nearby table was one of her favorite books.

Relief flooded over her as she came closer, and also a little bit of shame for getting so worked-up earlier. "What's this?" she whispered to Jim as she slid in smoothly beside him.

"Ah, she got a tummy ache as soon as she got to school, so I went and got her and brought her home. She's been here with me ever since," he told her in a low voice, his eyes moving between his wife and his child as he spoke.

Elisabeth sighed, "Thank goodness."

Understanding her concern, Jim continued with his account, "She didn't feel like eating solid food, or doing much of anything, so she asked me to read to her on the sofa. She fell asleep about a half-hour ago."

"Weren't you busy doing things for Commander Taylor?" she inquired.

"I was," he admitted, then after receiving a look, added, "he'll have to kill me later."

"And how many times did you make it through The Little Bluebird?" she asked, holding her daughter's favorite book in her hand.

"Oh-a-at least four, or, or, or five," Jim replied, nodding his head, causing her to smile. "Hundred," he added, and she giggled at this. She too had followed the life of the same bluebird a few hundred times.

"Mommy?" a little voice from her husband's lap spoke up as she shifted her position.

Jim rolled his head to the side and gave his wife a knowing stare with set smile, his way of saying, _Way to go, you woke her up_.

"Hey sweety," she cooed, brushing some of the hair away from her face, "how are you feeling?"

"Okay," she replied, though she made no attempt to sit up. "Read the story again," she requested meekly.

"Alright Zoe," she replied lovingly, remembering every one of the uncountable times she had been asked to read the children's book as she opened the front cover. Jim was stuck where he was since Zoe was still lying on his lap, but he was content enough to sit and listen for a little bit. "Way up high," she began to read, "in the tallest branches of the big oak tree on the corner of Washington Street, a mother bluebird sits-"

"No," Zoe protested lightly, bringing her to a stop. "I want Daddy to read it."

Elisabeth looked up at her husband, who returned a look that was just as surprised as hers. Gently, she handed the thin, colorful book to him, not entirely understanding why Zoe should suddenly want him to read to her over her mother.

She continued to sit with them as Jim opened up the front cover, and glanced at the giant text- pretending to read it- then began.

"Way up high, in the tallest branches of the big oak tree on the corner of Washington Street, a mother bluebird sits on her nest and watches the clouds go by . . ."

Elisabeth took advantage of the situation and settled deeper into the couch, nuzzling her head onto Jim's shoulder as he continued to read.

" . . . Suddenly, she gets up. Her egg is hatching! 'Peep peep peep!' the baby says. 'Are you my Mommy?' 'I am,' says the mother bluebird, 'and I will love you and take care of you so you can become strong and spread your wings to fly.' 'Teach me to fly now, peep peep!' the baby cries. 'I've always wanted to fly, oh won't you teach me Mommy?' 'In time! In time!' the mother chirps, 'there are so many other things you need to learn first' . . ."

* * *

**A/N: Second installment- not completely satisfied with it but here it is anyway. Why don't you do me a favor and leave a review with your favorite Terra Nova character, and why they're your favorite. For me- my favorite character is not among the Shannon family, and I have yet to find a good way to include them in this collection (although I'll try!).**


	3. Streetlamps

3 – Streetlamps

The gears of a monorail screamed in the distance, fading into a far-away echo that careened off the edifices above, then raced after the train. In the dark walkways that bordered each of the ash-gray buildings, corroded streetlamps lit escaping steam with their scattered amber beams, volts humming like calling insects.

A figure cut through the glowing steam, not once halting to observe the copy-paste scenery from the last few blocks she now passed. Her dark hair fell in sleek waves over her shoulders and caught a copper gleam each time she passed under a working light. A gush of air released from beneath her feet, tossing the unzipped edges of her light sweater in every which way. She took these edges in her hands and returned them to their undisturbed positions, wrapping her arms around herself not because she was cold, but merely to keep her apparel in place. Around her, air rushed out of narrow vents, air passed in and out of the rebreather she adjusted every half-minute, and the electric hum battled to drown out the distance grinding of the transit system. The only other sound she could distinguish through the surrounding drone was her own rhythmic steps as the heels of her shoes made their low click-click against the concrete.

She came to a corner and turned right, keeping her pace steady and brisk. She did not stop, nor look back, as another person made a left turn into the alley she now walked. His shoulders were broad, and he breathed the air of that dark night without assistance. Had he been standing next to her, she would have been able to see that he stood a full head taller than her, but for now, he stood at that corner, his jaw set without expression and his piercing gray-blue eyes following her outline in the shadows of the buildings. His steps did not make a sound. He followed her.

She walked in the darkness between the two buildings, without streetlights to return the copper gleam to her hair or cynically timed vents to play havoc with her things. She kept her eyes trained ahead on the sulfur-colored patch of pavement where a streetlight would be waiting to welcome her as she emerged from the alley. Her heels continued to click-click as she came closer and closer to this salvation. The man following behind her matched her pace with slow, patient strides.

Finally she came to the edge of the alley, again bathed in a misty glow. She knew home was left, but she slowed just long enough to glance in both directions. She had seen no one. No one was out late this night to shuffle along with the discarded paper that traversed the edges of the buildings, only stirring either occasionally or all at once when caught by a favorable vent. Her shoes click-clicked as she reached up to adjust her rebreather, pushing it closer against her face.

Another monorail screeched by. It was a couple of blocks away. She whipped her head around to glance over her shoulder, intent on whipping it right back. The man had followed her, and now he was only an arm's length away. She startled seeing him that close, the light above casting a golden sheen onto his brown hair and jacket, his eyes watching her, almost as startled as she was because she had looked back, and she ran. She could feel the adrenaline building up in her systems as she took that first long stride, her heels no longer making the same methodic click, but in beginning the third stride of her frantic sprint she felt a powerful hand come down and close upon her right shoulder, dragging her back. Catching up took hardly any effort as he brought his body closer to hers, reaching his free hand up into her face to push the rebreather out of the way of her mouth. Now holding her firmly by her arm, his main control exerted though her head, he hastily guided her into the nearest alleyway.

She fought against his hold but she could not scream. She could smell his hand beneath her nose and feel the rough fingers against her cheek. The adrenaline surged but he merely held tighter, both of them engulfed by the darkness of the alleyway, finally leaning in to speak, his breath warm against her ear.

"Shh, don't scream, you're okay, don't scream," he said to her, manipulating her so that she stood facing him, her back to the wall of the nearest building.

She could barely see him, the weight of her rebreather pulling on her ear.

"Just calm down," he continued saying to her, his voice smooth and reassuring, "I don't want to hurt you."

Her breathing began to slow, the strain of struggling against him subsiding, and eventually his hand began to fall from her mouth.

"That's it," he encouraged her, "just stay calm."

She wanted to look away. She wanted to run away. Now his only hold on her was his light grasp on her arm, but despite this, his looming presence seemed to surround her. She was trapped, breathing the unfiltered air and becoming light-headed.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said to her slowly, his words smoother than glass. "You're so beautiful," he said, again raising his hand to her eyes.

She flinched away at this motion, frozen in her place as she felt him run the back of a finger down her face, spinning a lock of her hair when he had reached her neck. Her throat had made the sound of a whimper, but her mouth had closed before it could escape.

"Don't be afraid," he assured at her flinch, his eyes never once leaving her.

After he had said this, she could feel his hand pulling her arm towards him, slow but firm. In response, she braced herself, standing as still as she could while pulling back against him. His hand merely pulled harder, his grip tightening slightly due to her resistance. She pulled back, this time having to strain herself against his greater strength until they were physically struggling against each other in the darkness.

"Come on girl," he said to her, his tone showing his slight irritation at her continued resistance. "Come on, don't be afraid."

She was about to scream; she could feel the fright rising up inside her as he handled her roughly during their wrangle for control.

Without warning, a third dark silhouette beamed through the shadows. It took ahold of the man in front of her and tore him away. She was jerked aside as well by the man's delayed reaction of releasing her arm to confront his own attacker. In the dark alley she lost her footing and fell to the ground, glimpsing up at the two figures outlined in the faint light who did battle above her as she pushed herself away against any solid surface she could grasp. Above her own breathing she could hear the release of the steam vents beyond the alley; the unfiltered air was like wet cardboard in her mouth as she finally panted in the panic that she had kept down until now. The two people exchanged blows in quick succession, the sound of hand striking face or chest even louder than the rushing air. By the build, she could tell the other was a man, not all that much unlike the first. They appeared evenly matched, neither relenting, and already she had lost track of which man had pulled her into the alley, and which had just leapt into the fray.

Then, one men's strikes broke the other free of the tussle, allowing him to stagger back. The one who had been hit, now with his back to the hazy air touched by the streetlights, hesitated a short moment, as if weighing his options, then took off out of the alley and out of view. Before he disappeared, she was able to catch a glimpse of his face in the yellow light, and recognized him as the one who had spoken false reassurances while holding her down.

The second man was left standing at the alley's entrance, fists finally relaxing into open hands as his shoulders rose and fell with each breath lost during the fight that he now struggled to regain. After a few moments of gasping in the stagnant air, she could see the outline of his shoulders turning as he looked at her. He turned back, looking out of the alley as he forced his breathing to appear more controlled before coming around completely and walking up to address her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, offering her his hand, the pant still present in his words.

She swallowed and nodded, just realizing that she had been trembling as she reached up to take his hand. Gently, he helped her to her feet. His hand was strong and warm, toughened by years of whatever it was he might do, but somehow softer than the rough fingers that had scrapped across her face.

After awhile, she suddenly realized that he had been standing in front of her, patiently waiting for her to say something, but what do you say in a situation like this? Was he waiting for some sort of gratitude or still just trying to catch his breath? She hated to think it but for some reason the thought had chosen that particular moment to pop into her head. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before, a pair like them on the streets, one rushing in to be the hero after the first had had a chance to rough up the victim. This poor soul would be unable to do anything but put their complete trust in the hero, and then they'd share her. He would be such a gentleman, not laying a finger on her because he _understood_ her plight, offering company and his divine protection on her way home, his words just as venomously sweet as his partner's. The whole thing had been a ruse, her brain chemistry taken advantage of when it was at its most vulnerable.

He was still looking at her, though he probably couldn't see her any better than she could see him. Some time during her uncontrolled surmising, she had brought her rebreather back over her nose and mouth and was now breathing more slowly.

"Come on," he said to her, "let's get out of this dark alley."

She managed a nod as he guided her to go in front of him, an open hand resting lightly on her upper arm.

Back out in the main walking area the light was very bright and she squinted slightly. She saw no trace of the man that had taken wrestled her into the alley; the electric hum was louder than it had been before. To her side, she also heard the sound of air rushing in and out of another rebreather, and turned to see the man that had rescued her – finally able to see him clearly – taking a few deep breaths through his own apparatus. His face was softer, kinder than the other she had just seen, despite a few cuts and bruises at the corner of his mouth and beside his eyebrow. She saw his light blue eyes steal a few glances at her as well, as if to merely make sure she was still there.

"Are you hurt?" he inquired, removing his rebreather while he spoke, now holding her stare.

She shook her head. At least she didn't think she was hurt; she had fallen to the ground but it hadn't been far to fall. She was hurt in pride, maybe, but what could be done with that?

"What about you?" she replied in much the same fashion of lowering her rebreather then immediately replacing it.

For a moment, it seemed he didn't understand the question. Just as he was about to figure it out, she gestured to the area beside her own supraorbital process – her med student showing – suggesting that he take notice of his.

"I'm alright," he answered. "This is from," he added, "earlier."

She nodded. She still didn't have anything to say. He looked older than she was, a little older at least.

"Jim Shannon," he finally said, allowing his rebreather to dangle around his neck as he reached out to shake her hand, as per customary introductions. "I'm with the Chicago police force."

She tentatively shook his hand without removing her mask or attempting to speak, looking over Jim Shannon once more.

"Off duty," he stated, guessing at her questions.

She saw him smile at her. He had a very nice smile, at least she thought it was very nice. "Elisabeth," she said, removing her rebreather with her other hand. A smile of her own started tugging at her mouth. She saw him smile again and he released her hand.

* * *

**A/N: Ahh that was long! I also have some extra things to say about this chapter so I'll dive right in:**

**Yet again I've managed to open the scene with Elisabeth walking somewhere (you may have noticed the first two began this way as well, did you?). What's up with that? Next time, I promise she will be standing still.**

**This installment has allowed me to get back to my most-favored: descriptive writing! What do you think? Is it any better than the first two?**

**The rating was updated to T with the posting of this chapter because it had two guys hitting each other. I can say this now: it will never get any higher than T.**

**Thanks for the (few) reviews so far, I like using those to gauge the direction this should take or, maybe, discontinue the story based on lack of overall interest. Please (please please please) respond to anything you'd like, not only limited to the things I say here. Speaking of which, I'd like to know your opinion on the update schedule of this piece so far. Technically, it has no schedule, so postings are irregular and sporadic. Would you rather have periodic additions, or would you rather be surprised when a new one suddenly appears?**


	4. Patience

4 – Patience

Though the silver-colored handles on the outside of the clinic doors had been made hot by the midday sun, the air inside was cool and gently moving. Despite the prehistoric landscape and the humid jungles around them, it perpetually managed to smell like a doctor's office- something he had come to appreciate over the years. Upon entering, Jim ventured through the front entryway in search of a very special lady. Only a few nurses and visitors passed by him as he went, so he guessed it had not been an overly busy day.

When he finally located his wife, she had her back turned to him and appeared to be talking with another doctor or nurse over a holographic display panel. As they held it up to see better and comment back and forth, Jim noted it appeared to be internal scans of the bones and muscles of someone's leg. _It was probably that MacManus boy again_, he mused, _he always seemed to have a broken leg or a broken arm_.

So although the clinic was relatively empty, she appeared busy at the moment. But that was alright, he thought as he looked around, he could be patient- he could wait.

"Excuse me," he said quietly to grab one of the passing attendants, his gaze regularly switching back to his wife. "When Doctor Shannon is available, could you tell her she has a patient waiting in this bed?" he asked politely, touching the curtain that enclosed said bed.

"Of course Mr. Shannon," she replied, continuing on her way.

He paused for a short moment, wondering how this person, who he certainly didn't know on a first-name basis, should known who he was, but then stopped in that pursuit upon remembering that he was a frequent visitor to the clinic and that his wife, unlike himself, was well-known.

Elisabeth still had not turned around, so he silently drew back a section of the curtain and stepped through gingerly, drawing it back behind him. Since the bed was empty, the curtained-off room was somewhat dark. He took another moment to look around again as another nurse's blurry outline passed on the other side of the curtain before hopping up onto the bed and reclining into it. He nestled himself down and folded his hands over his chest, always surprised at just how comfortable these beds actually are when you are not bleeding or breaking out in a rash from giant heismess itching leaves. As an afterthought, he repositioned one of his arms so that his eyes were covered by the bend in his arm.

He lay there for a short while, listening to the sound of his own breathing as the cool plastic began to filter its temperature through the back of his shirt. After waiting there in the dark for those few moments, just as he was about to look up, he heard the curtain being pulled away.

"Jim?" he heard the voice of his wife say.

He did not respond or change his position, only continued to lie there with his arm over his eyes as her footsteps suggested she had drawn closer.

"Jim, what's wrong?" she asked, now standing over him, only mildly concerned at this point.

"Uhh," he groaned, tilting his head slightly under his arm.

"Jim?" she repeated, not encouraged by his response.

"Elisabeth?" he croaked weakly.

"I'm here," she said, gently trying to move his arm off his eyes. "I'm here, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"Elisabeth," he groaned slowly, letting his arm fall as his head lolled to one side. He kept his eyes closed.

"Jim?" she repeated.

"When are you gonna get off woooork?" he said at last, his words slurring for emphasis, and finally let the smile he had been holding back slip out.

She smiled too although he didn't see it, relieved that nothing was seriously wrong, but still slightly distressed at his childish prank. "Why would you do that?" she protested. "I thought you were hurt."

"I was bored," he said, finally opening his eyes to see her relieved frustration, still drawing his words out a bit.

"Did you just come in here to scare me?" she asked.

"Yeah," he admitted, stroking her hand. "Were you busy?"

"No," she told him.

"The MacManus boy?" he inquired.

"Who else?" she agreed.

"Mm," he sighed, "I'm glad our kids aren't self-destructive."

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**A/N: A short chapter; what do you think should happen next?**


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